


/disˈjoin(t)əd/

by frankcastles (Deathtouch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Guilt, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/frankcastles
Summary: a disjointed collection of mostly unrelated drabbles, vignettes, pieces of stories, and scenes. please think of this like an artist posting their unfinished sketches.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i chose not to use archive warnings but some may still apply. jesse's age isn't specified but if large age gaps are something that bothers you, you might not want to read ahead. there may be non-con elements in the future. if so the tags will be updated and a warning will be issued ahead of the chapter. 
> 
> chapters are relatively unrelated. each new chapter is a new scene/setting/story with little to no connection to the last. some chapters may be a few words and others might be fic length. 
> 
> almost everything is early blackwatch gabriel/jesse. expect everything from angst and dark content to romance and sex. updates may likely be sporadic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 1 includes blowjobs and vomiting

It's scary how good McCree is at it, considering Gabriel has never known him to be with anyone else before. In all the time he's been with Blackwatch he's never so much as gone on a date. Gabriel would expect him to be a novice, or out of practice. McCree isn't any of those things though, he's good.  
  
He swallows down Gabriel's cock, not stopping until he's got all of it crammed down the back of his throat. He chokes and swallows and big shiny tears start welling up in his eyes.  
  
Gabriel's not sure what to do, or why he let this get so far. He doesn't want to sit there and watch McCree cry while blowing him though. As good as it feels, he can't handle that.  
  
"McCree..." Gabriel tries, pulling back just a little.  
  
McCree's hands raise and he clamps on to Gabriel's hips holding him perfectly still. His grip is strong and his hands are firm. He closes his eyes, tears leaking out the sides of them. He _hums_.  
  
Gabriel gasps at the feeling. He reaches for McCree's head to hold it in place as he shoves in deeper.  
  
Under the expertise and skill of McCree's mouth, it isn't long before Reyes orgasms. He hauls off and comes down the back of McCree's throat, painting it white with seed. McCree moans like he likes it and swallows all of it down.  
  
McCree pulls off and gasps for breath. He nuzzles up to Gabriel's softening cock, literally pushing his face right against it. Gabriel not quite sure what to with his hands so he lays them flat on the bed on either side of his thighs.  
  
"Tell me when you're ready to go again." McCree requests. His voice would be soft if it wasn't for how his throat had just been fucked. His words come out more brusque than anything.  
  
"McCree..." Gabriel starts, a million and one reasons they shouldn't be doing this.  
  
McCree shushes him. He's got his forehead buried up in Gabriel's fuzzy pubic hair, and a face full of cock and balls and he doesn't even seem to mind. "Don't take this from me." He whispers. "It's all I want, okay. Don't take it from me."  
  
How is Gabriel supposed to argue with that?  
  
He moves to eventually stroke McCree's hair, just to have something to do with his hands. McCree gets tense and visibly stiffens before each stroke so Gabriel stops.  
  
They sit for a while like that, McCree's breath ghosting over Gabriel's cock. Head tucked in and nestled up to Gabriel's crotch like that's at all appropriate or where it belongs.  
  
Gabriel hesitates to admit that he's ready, but he does give the go ahead that he's alright to go again. Jesse starts in on him a second time.  
  
McCree’s blow jobs are amazing. He uses his hands, his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his throat… even a little bit of teeth. (Just a little.) He gets down and dirty and messy with spit and come. He goes at it till his face is red and he can't breathe.  
  
He keeps working Gabriel over. Jesse makes him come five times in one night. They can both thank the SEP for a low refractory period and unnecessary stamina. Gabriel's never climaxed that much in one sitting before. He is worn and tired and sweaty from the effort.  
  
McCree seems mad, or disappointed when Gabriel says he doesn't have another orgasm left in him. He disengages. He spends twenty minutes in the bathroom with the water running and Gabriel has no idea what he’s doing in there.  
  
They sleep in separate beds, not that they have much time to sleep. An hour and a half maybe.  
  
They rendezvous with the transport back to base. McCree gets motion sick during the takeoff. Something that's never happened to him before. He spits up into a white paper bag designed for those with weak stomachs. The contents of his vomit are white and milky and he stares straight at Gabriel while vomiting.  
  
Gabriel stares back, disconcerted and unsure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains ptsd, canon typical violence, flashbacks, guilt.

Gabriel left the keys on the dresser. Actual keys. The metal kind that pushed into a door lock. They clinked together before settling on the wood. He looked around...  
  
"Not bad, right?"  
  
And McCree shrugged because what could he say with his jaw wired shut. Gabriel knew he could speak, mumble words passed clenched teeth, but he also knew McCree wouldn't bother. He hardly spoke anyway, the last thing he needed was an excuse not to.  
  
The hotel was nice. A little old fashioned, but most things on this side of town were. The windows had rustic red curtains, the radiator was white iron, and the beds had real solid wood frames. This place hadn't been updated in years, but the timelessness gave it some classic charm that nothing else could compare to. It looked like it should smell musty, but surprisingly it didn't.  
  
"We can look for an apartment for you." Gabriel tried again.  
  
McCree was already sitting at the edge of the bed. He shook his head slowly. Gabriel noticed how stiff he was. He tried not to.  
  
"McCree..." Gabriel wasn't even sure what to say. "Look, I know this is medical leave, but you don't have to stay here. You can go anywhere you want." Gabriel wasn't sure if he was actually allowed to say the words 'take a paid vacation because for fucks sake we all know you deserve it' but he hoped the intent read loud and clear.  
  
"Itzsokay" McCree, more than anything, sounded like he wanted to be left alone. His words were mashed together because of the unfortunate predicament that was his broken jaw.  
  
Gabriel saw the butt of a gun ramming into McCree's face again and narrowly refrained from flinching. He turned away.  
  
"Okay. Call if you need anything." He left without another word.  
  
Out in the hall, Gabriel stood with his back to McCree's hotel room door. There were a million things he wanted to say. He wanted to remind McCree to sleep, and eat, and not to spend too much time cooped up inside. He wanted to tell McCree which way the hospital was should something go wrong and which way the pharmacy was when his pain medication ran out. He wanted to tell McCree to get better without ordering it. He wanted to tell McCree he was sorry for everything that had happened. He wanted to apologize.  
  
He wanted to be forgiven.  
  
Gabriel straightened up and walked on.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Gabriel had been awarded two days off for his valiant efforts in the fight against the terrorist threats of the world.  
  
Two whole days. What a prize.  
  
In reality, Morrison had seen his hands shaking when they unloaded at headquarters. He had seen the blood on him, splattered across his tactical boots and the legs of his pants. He had suggested he take leave. When Gabriel refused, he ordered it.  
  
It was a hindrance more than anything. Gabriel could already imagine all the paperwork getting backed up, piled on his desk, waiting in his inbox. All the information and missions he would need to be briefed on when he got back. There was a dull ache pinching right between his eyes by the time he got back to his quarters. The last thing he needed was more stress.  
  
Gabriel went to grab some Tylenol from the kitchen cupboard.  
  
He saw blood pooling on the tile of his kitchen floor. He saw McCree's teeth scatter. He heard the heartbreaking noise of pain that followed.  
  
Gabriel hurried right on passed the kitchen, closing himself off in the bedroom, pressing all his weight on the door behind him as if he could keep the flash backs out that way. It worked well enough... It had to work. Gabriel was determined to make this work. It was just one OP gone bad; not the first in his life and probably not the last. He’d never watched an Agent get their jaw split open before. That memory and his own lack of action would haunt him, but he’d get over this just like he did everything else.  
  
He hoped McCree would too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk no new tags for this i guess.

"Sir."  
  
Someone was talking to him.   
  
"Sir." the words were so close to his ear, spoken so softly and yet they sounded so loud. Why was it so loud? Gabriel winced and turned away.  
  
"Sir. Wake up."  
  
Gabriel groaned in reply, and immediately felt something over his mouth stopping the noise of his groan from carrying.   
  
There was warmth next to his face, a ghosting of air. "Please, sir, stay quiet." the sound came from right next to his ear.   
  
The words reverberated and went buzzing into his brain. It was like someone had switched the channel to static snow. It echoed around his skull. His head began to swim. Everything warmed over, his brain was sinking into blackness. He fought to stay conscious but it was a losing battle.   
  
The voice came whispering to him again, breaking with emotion. "Please, sir. Stay with me."  
  
Blackness enveloped him whole.   
  
Hours could have passed. Days even.   
  
Gabriel felt a great pressure on his shoulder. Sounds and different feelings slowly came back to him. He was laying down, he thought. Whatever was underneath him was hard as a rock. No. Wait. It wasn't hard as a rock it _was_ rock. A rock, a whole bunch of rocks. It didn't feel good.   
  
His whole body tingled and prickled with pain. All of his limbs felt heavy. His head was pounding. Oh god. His head. His skull must be split open, his brains must be spattered out, he must have gotten run over by a fucking Mac truck. There was no reason for him to be in this much pain. He tried to open his eyes, blinking once and then twice and then squeezing them shut tight. It was dark. He couldn't tell what he was seeing. Everything looked hazy or came to him in doubles.  
  
He opened his mouth to speak. Wasn't there someone here earlier? Calling to him? What had they said...? He drew in a breath, ignoring the way his chest pulsed with pain when his lungs filled with air. He was just about to make a noise when a hand suddenly clamped down on his mouth.  
  
"Shh." The sound was further away than last time it came to him.   
  
Gabriel tried again to open his eyes. He squinted into the dim darkness. McCree was looming over him. Two McCree's. Gabriel's eyes burned and focused and both McCree's faded in and out and became one before separating into two again.  
  
It was McCree's hand over his mouth, it was McCree who had called out to him earlier, and it was McCree bearing down on him now with enough intimidation to make a lesser man weep.  
  
"Your radio." he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.  
  
Gabriel had to think. Thinking was making his brain hurt. Where was his radio?  
  
"You're laying on it." McCree added, as hushed as ever. "I can't lift you again. Turn over." He pulled his hand back, seeming to trust that his superior wouldn't make any noises.  
  
Gabe tried to turn over. It didn't work very well. His head began to spin and his whole body ached in protest. McCree moved into a crouched and duck walked to his other side. Gabriel wondered if the ceiling was low. He didn't have much time to think on it. McCree was wedging his hands under Gabriel's right shoulder.   
  
Together they tried again, and McCree snagged the radio from where it was clipped to Gabriel's belt. When Gabriel laid back down he noticed that he was significantly more comfortable. Now if only he could do something about the pounding in his head and the way his body hurt all over.  
  
Gabriel closed his eyes taking a few deep breaths. When he opened them again McCree was back on his left side. Gabriel turned his head to look at him. McCree was sitting on something. The ground? If it was the ground, then the ground was sloped. Gabriel noticed that McCree was covered in soot, or dirt, or grime. His hands were black. He turned his head and dust fell from his hair. He was taking tight, shallow breaths and he held his chest puffed up like a rooster. His ribs were broken.  
  
"What happened?" Gabriel whispered. His throat was dry.  
  
McCree turned on the radio and tuned into one of Overwatch’s many secure channels. Immediately he began clicking S.O.S. on the receiver. His whole body was so strung up with tension, Gabriel could have given him a gentle tap and he would have shattered or crumbled.  
  
"McCree."  
  
"Bombs. Downstairs." Jesse McCree; ever the wordsmith.  
  
Gabriel supposed he didn't need much more explanation than that. "I guess they didn't like the terms of our negotiation." Gabriel ended his sentence with a cough.  
  
McCree grimaced and held up a hand. "Please, sir. They're still down there."  
  
Ah well. They were just on the second floor of an unstable bombed out building, in enemy territory, suffering from severe injuries, with no usable weapons or backup, and the enemies were just a stone's throw away. Gabriel's head pulsed with pain again. This couldn't possibly get any worse. He looked to McCree and saw bright tracks of clear tan skin that cut through the grime on his cheeks. Gabe wondered if he was seeing things again until he realized they were tear tracks. McCree's cracking voice haunted him, begging him to stay.  
  
It could be worse for one of them, he supposed. He could be blacked out again and McCree could be all alone.   
  
Gabriel strengthened his resolve. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> please check out [this awesome mcreyes charity event](https://mcreyes4charity.tumblr.com/) i'm involved it before it ends on july 28th 2018 :)
> 
> thanks for reading
> 
> [tumblr](http://deathtouch.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)


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